


Boy Wonder

by incendiary1 (trycatpennies)



Category: Glee RPF, Starkid RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trycatpennies/pseuds/incendiary1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through absolutely no help from Darren's matchmaking skills, Joey and Chris end up happily ever after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boy Wonder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



It’s about three thousand degrees and Joey’s paid about thirty-five dollars for three drinks; one beer for him, one for Mia, and something incredibly pink for Darren. 

They’re at a bar, someplace called Cups, about a twenty minute cab ride from their house. Joey’s pretty sure he’s going to leave obnoxious comments on Yelp later about how it’s totally unfair for them to charge ten dollar cover and then ten dollars for a beer. 

“Try it,” Darren says, and Joey makes a face. Darren’s drink is the house specialty. “Seriously, it’s amazing.”

Joey takes a sip, and it’s good. Thirteen bucks good though? Debatable. 

“You totally only come here for the pink drinks,” Joey says, and Darren shrugs, stealing his drink back. Joey takes a sip of his beer instead. 

“No, we are here to find you a man, Joey Richter. It’s been far too long,” Darren says, and Joey sighs. “Also, to dance. Oh my god, I love this song.”

“Are you sure you’re not gay?” Joey deadpans, and Darren stops bouncing along to the bass track and pauses, considering. 

“I don’t know,” he says, wonderingly. He turns to Mia, who gives him a long suffering look. “Better make sure. Mia, show me your tits.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she answers, fond. Joey smiles at her. He loves Mia, and he toasts her with his beer, clinking his bottle with hers. 

“Come dance with me,” Darren whines at Joey, back to bobbing along to the music. Joey shakes his head, holding out a hand. 

“Darren, if we came here to try to get me laid, I cannot think of a worse idea than having anyone see me dance,” he says, laughing. “Though I appreciate the thought.” 

Darren’s a good wingman. He’s actually successfully gotten Joey laid before, but to be honest Joey’s not sure he’s looking to get laid tonight. He glances at Mia, who's watching him, and he looks away, glad that Darren’s tugging at his elbow.

“Look,” Darren says, and he leans in, shouting a little to be heard over the music. “How about that guy?”

Joey looks at the guy, then back at Darren.

“Are you high? What the hell is in those drinks, Darren, god. No. Just, no.”

“You have terrible taste in men, Darren,” Mia says, and she kisses Darren on the cheek. “You should probably stop trying to help.”

“Fine,” Darren pouts, and he orders another pink drink, downing the first one and pointing the straw at Joey. “You pick one.”

Joey takes another sip of his beer and looks around.

“How about him,” Joey says, begrudgingly, and Darren gives him a severely disapproving look and opens his mouth to say something probably entirely offensive regarding Joey’s taste in men, and. “Look, D. Can we just... go? Somewhere else? We’re in a bar that’s playing house music, and everyone is wearing white, and the beer is grotesquely overpriced. This just. It’s really not me, ok?”

Darren looks a little bashful and he nods, abandoning his drink.

-

“Maybe I’ve just had enough of hook-ups, ok?” Joey says, and Mia nods, comforting. They’re in their favourite booth at the diner down the block from them, Joey’s nursing another beer, Mia’s drinking coffee, and Darren’s messing with the jukebox. 

“I’m not saying Darren’s not the perfect guy to find you an actual date, but--” Mia is saying.

“Hey,” Darren objects, sliding back into the booth next to her. “I take offense. I can find like, good guys.”

“Ok, you, my friend, are exceptional at finding the one night stand. The 'good in bed' guy, the ‘those pants look amazing but I bet they’d look better on my bedroom floor’ guy,” Joey says, and rolls his eyes when Darren holds a hand up for a fist bump. Mia smacks him. “But the last time you set me up on an actual _date_? It was terrible.”

“Lies,” Darren exclaims. “He was sweet. He was successful. He was smart and funny.”

“He was _married_ ,’ Joey says, and Darren flushes. Mia laughs. “I’m just saying, your track record for actual dates is like, nil.”

“Admit it, babe,” Mia says, and she pats Darren’s arm while he pouts. “Even we started out as a hook-up.”

“Fine,” Darren says, giving up. “What are your great ideas, then?”

“How about we have a party,” Mia says, slowly. “We haven’t, in awhile. I know some people, and Darren can see if he can invite some guys. It’s low key that way, no pressure.”

“No overpriced beer,” Joey adds and he nods. “That sounds like not a terrible idea, actually.”

Darren opens his mouth and Mia jabs him in the side.

“So help me god, if you title the Facebook event anything involving the words ‘Joey’, ‘Boyfriend’, or ‘Yenta’, I will not sleep with you for a month.”

Darren gives Mia a ‘who, me?’ face, and then winks at Joey as soon as Mia isn’t looking.

-

Joey is a little bit stoned, and a little bit drunk. It’s the perfect kind of buzz to have at your own party. He takes a sip of whatever Darren’s made him, something he’s drinking out a red Solo cup with BOY WONDER scribbled across the side in Sharpie. Darren’s cup labels generally get progressively less creative and more raunchy as the night goes on; Joey’s glad he got his early. He’s pretty sure he saw a guy wandering around with one that just said BALLS.

“--terrible reason, Darren,” Chris is saying when Darren waves Joey over. Chris is red-faced when Joey gets to them and he wonders what, exactly, he interrupted. 

“Most of Darren’s reasons are terrible,” Joey says, and he smiles at Chris, gesturing a ‘hello’ with his cup. 

“That,” Darren says, confident, “Is why you love me.”

“Sure,” Chris says, and he takes a sip of his drink, which is labelled in his own handwriting and says ‘Not Darren’s Fucking Drink'.

“What were you talking about?” Joey asks, gulping down half his beer. Chris eyes Darren dangerously. Darren is oblivious.

“I was saying,” Darren says, with an air of infinite wisdom, “That you and Chris should make out.”

Oh.

Joey had originally attributed Chris’ red face to to the alcohol in his cup, but it’s obvious now that Darren’s been on this tack for awhile.

“I’m dying to know why,” Joey says, and he raises an eyebrow at Chris, diffusing the tension. It’s easy to make this about how ridiculous Darren is being. Because frankly, Darren’s being incredibly ridiculous. 

“Because we’re both _tall_ ,” Chris says, sounding unimpressed. Joey snorts.

“Darren, Darren, Darren,” he says, shaking his head. “That _is_ a terrible reason. Next time Lauren’s around I’m going to try to pitch this height thing to her, because clearly the two of you are soulmates.”

“I am way taller than Lauren,” Darren starts, defensively. “And besides, I have other reasons.”

Chris holds up a hand to stop him and Darren’s attention turns to him. It makes Joey smile, the way Darren treats Chris like he’s a little more breakable than most. Joey’s pretty sure it’s the opposite.

“Stop, oh my god, stop,” Chris says, and he rubs at his temple, looking a little fraught. “Where is Mia, can’t she call you off?”

“She’s making out with Charlene. They kicked me out,” Darren pouts. Joey snorts again, covering it by sipping his drink.

“She’s making out with who? Charlene?” Chris looks genuinely baffled. 

Joey shrugs. “Darren and Mia have a very open, trusting relationship. That and she’s way, way gayer than him.”

“Way gayer,” Darren agrees, nodding fervently.

“I need more rum,” Chris says.

-

Joey’s phone buzzes twice, and Joey ignores it. The party is still going, and he’s drinking yet another beer and talking to Chris about Real Housewives of Atlanta, because seriously? _Fuck_ Pheadra, bitch is crazy. 

When his phone buzzes three more times, chiming insistently, Joey sighs, making a face. 

He has three texts from Darren, and then two from Mia. They sum up to say that the two of them need the house on Tuesday. For things Joey’d rather not think about. 

“Gross,” he says, aloud. Chris raises an eyebrow and Joey frowns, explaining. “Darren’s oversharing. Looks like I’m spending Tuesday on the street.”

“They’re kicking you out of your own place?” Chris asks, surprised. Joey shakes his head.

“Not so much. They don’t kick me out, but last time I didn’t leave I ended up seeing Mia with a riding crop and Darren in a bit gag. Like, to each their own, but I don’t need that mental image.”

Chris laughs, and he pats Joey’s arm. 

“Oh my god,” he says, and Joey nods, looking pitiful.

“Basically, now they have to warn me. It’s fine, I’ll just like, go see a movie or something.”

“By yourself?

“Ouch,” Joey says, clapping a hand over his chest. “Thanks for the vote of confidence in my popularity, Colfer.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean-- Shit,” Chris says, and he flushes. “I just meant. We could hang out? Get coffee or something? Talk shit about your roommate and my co-star? Two birds, one stone?”

“Sweet,” Joey says. “Give me your number.”

-

_Please text Darren adn tell him we’re not going on a date._

It’s Tuesday morning and Darren’s filming. The text on his phone is from Chris, and Joey sighs. Darren’s a dick sometimes. Well meaning, but a dick.

He clicks over to Darren’s name, and considers for a second before he taps out a message.

_leave chris alone or i’m hiding all your condoms. we’re not going on a date, you’re getting laid and i’m getting coffee._

Darren sends back a picture of Chris looking irritated but fond. Joey saves it and texts back.

_tell him if he needs to kill you, i’m willing to provide an alibi_

-

The Starbucks he’s in is half full and he’s snagged a table near the back corner, sort of out of the way and near enough to a plug so he can charge his phone. He’s got two drinks in front of him; the coffee he’s ordered for himself, and an iced caramel macchiato for Chris. He’d grinned at Chris' somewhat frantic text that he was going to be late, to order for him, and that if Joey bought the first round Chris would be glad to get the second. 

He plays a few rounds of Temple Run then Chris is sliding into the seat across from him and grabbing the caramel macchiato, closing his eyes and holding up a finger to keep Joey from speaking as he sucks back nearly half the drink.

“Oh, that is awesome,” Chris says, and Joey laughs. Chris opens his eyes, letting out a huge breath. “Thank you. Ryan kept us to run this stupid-- No. No! I don’t want to talk about it.”

Joey’s never seen Chris like this, less than composed. Mind you, he’s only really met Chris a handful of times, at events or parties at their place, and Chris tends to keep his walls up. This version of Chris is flustered, friendly, open, and on. 

“Did you make it out in time?” Chris asks, and the look he gives Joey can only be described as devious. 

“Barely,” Joey answers. “I’m pretty sure I saw latex.” 

Chris fakes a shudder and takes another sip of his drink, grinning. 

“Well, I’m glad to be your knight in shining armour, so to speak.”

Joey smiles, wide. “So, tell me about your movie, Mr. Colfer.”

-

“Tell him he’s trending,” Darren says, glancing over at Joey. They’re driving, and Joey can’t see Darren’s eyes behind his sunglasses, but he’s smiling wide and Joey smiles back. Joey’s in the passenger seat and in charge of texting. Apparently. He sends Chris the text, and instead of a reply there’s a chirp from his twitter notification.

_@chriscolfer: you guys spoil me. i can’t keep up with this many TTs! #KingColfer_

And then a text:

_are you my secretary now?_

Joey reads it aloud to Darren who starts yelling the word ‘sex-cretary’ and making some very pornographic moaning noises, stopping only because he almost runs a red light. Joey takes the opportunity of Darren’s distracted curses to text Chris back.

_dinner on me? i’ll give the king a break from his royal duties_

Chris texts back immediately, and Joey ends up googling directions for Blossom. 

-

“I’ve never had pho,” Joey says, and he takes a sip of his beer, looking at the menu. They’re sitting outside, and it’s cool but the big heaters overhead are on and it’s comfortable on the patio. The restaurant is nice without being overbearing, and Joey likes it here, feels comfortable already. 

“The rare steak one is amazing,” Chris says. The waitress drops off a refill of Diet Coke for him and he smiles up at her, before looking back at Joey. “Don’t worry, refills are free,” he chuckles.

Joey realizes that he stopped looking at his menu and is sort of staring at Chris instead, and Chris raises an eyebrow when Joey sputters.

“Sorry, I just. I can’t believe we didn’t hang out before this,” Joey says. For some reason that doesn’t feel like exactly what he wanted to say, but it’s closest.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry you were so long without my truly fantastic company,” Chris says, but he’s flushed a little pink, and well. That’s sort of adorable. 

“It’s shocking I survived so long,” Joey says, and he smiles before taking another sip of beer. “Speaking of being deprived, I know it’s short notice, and I know we’re hanging out now, and I’d hate for you to get sick of me, but did you want to go see Beckett’s Endgame tomorrow? It’s playing at Odyssey Theatre.”

“I can’t,” Chris says, after a second, and he really does look regretful, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I mean, I’d love to, but I can’t.”

“Hey, no worries,” Joey says, fumbling a little with the recovery. “We’ll go catch something else. You’re like, hellishly busy, I know. Filming, the movie--”

“I have a date,” Chris says, and when Joey looks up at him, Chris is looking down, eyes fixed on his soda. 

“Sweet,” Joey says, and man, he really wishes he could sound just a little less strangled. “You should text me after, tell me how it goes.”

Chris responds with something, then changes the subject. 

-

“Dude,” Darren says, eyes wide. He exhales, smoke curling out of his mouth, and passes the joint to Joey.

“I know,” Joey says, miserable. He takes a hit, deep. It burns his lungs, but they’ve upgraded their default weed quality significantly since college. He breathes out, sighing. “I told him to text me. What was I thinking?”

The rest of his dinner with Chris had been awkward. Friendly, but forced. Although Joey could have been projecting a bit, considering how hard he’d been fighting to keep down all the nonsense he’d wanted to spew about why Chris shouldn’t go on the date. 

“Uh, I don’t know?” Darren says, sounding bewildered.

“It was rhetorical,” Joey mutters, and Darren nods like Joey’s just explained the secrets of string theory. “I just can’t believe I said that.”

“Joe,” Darren says, slowly. Joey looks over at him, plucking the joint from Darren’s fingers and taking a hit. “Are you mad because you said something stupid about the date, or are you mad because he’s on the date?”

Joey takes a second, holding Darren’s wide-eyed look. 

“Oh,” Joey says, finally. “Shit.”

“Exactly,” Darren says, a little smug. “I think you need to figure out if that’s what’s bothering you, and if it is, man up and do something about it. Otherwise, you need to shut the fuck up.”

“I hate that you’re smart when you’re stoned,” Joey says, and he nudges Darren with his foot. “Thanks, though.”

“I demand tribute in the form of jalapeno poppers,” Darren declares. “Ooh, and Twizzlers.” 

“I take it back,” Joey says, clambering to his feet for the take-out menu. “You better hope Di’s delivers at three in the afternoon.”

-

There had been multiple attempts to distract himself. 

He’d thoroughly schooled Darren at Halo for two hours, eaten about his body weight in poppers, played Skyrim while Darren yelled dragon shouts at him. They’d ordered and eaten a pizza, and smoked two more joints. 

Normally, he’d consider it a day well spent, but it’s done now; well past dark and Darren’d gone to bed, clapping a hand on Joey’s shoulder and smiling at him tiredly.

And Joey’s still thinking about Chris. 

He turns his phone over in his hand and sits up in bed, groaning at himself. 

“Man up, Richter,” he mutters, and he unlocks his phone, scrolling to Chris’ name. It’s only nine o’clock, and chances are that Chris is still on his date. If it’s going well. 

_how’s your date going? do you need me to make a fake emergency call?_

He hits send and immediately regrets it, tossing his phone to the end of the bed and muffling a shout of frustration into his pillow. 

He gives up after about five minutes of self-torture with no response from Chris, and resorts to his usual evening routine: jerk off, then sleep like a baby. 

He slides a hand under the waistband of his sweats and cups his dick. He goes slow, lazy, lets his mind wander, carefully thinking around what he’s trying really hard not to think about. He’s not getting there, only half hard, and something’s not quite working. He thumbs over the head of his dick, works his grip a little tighter and twists his wrist so he just--

Fuck, his phone is ringing. 

He scrambles at the foot of the bed, his sweats bunched around his hips and he realizes, too late, that he’s actually _answered_ the phone. 

“Fuck, hello?” he says, because, well. In for a penny. 

“Joey?” Chris says, and Joey cringes. Oh, hell.

“Uh, yes. Hi, what’s up. How was the date?”

He is staunchly going to ignore the part where his dick is now hard. Traitor. 

“It was great. He’s really sweet. We went to this new restaurant on--”

Chris is rambling, something about the Thai version of savoury profiteroles and this new beer and Joey swings his legs off the side of the bed, hunching over his dick and glaring at it.

“That sounds, uh. Awesome. I’m glad you had a good time," Joey manages, strained. Smooth, Richter. 

“Are you ok?” Chris asks, and then there’s silence for a beat.

“Yeah, fine,” Joey says, eventually. And now is when he should wish Chris goodnight, turn his phone off, and crawl into a hole. “Did he come home with you?”

Or not.

“That’s none of your business. And no, he didn’t. Why are you deflecting?” 

Joey’s really got to work on his cover. Either that or Chris is just that good at reading him. Most likely it’s the latter.

“I’m not--”

“You are. And you sound weird.” 

Joey can imagine the look on Chris’ face; the frown while he tries to solve the puzzle, and the widening of his eyes as the quarter drops. “You’re jerking off.”

Busted.

“I--”

“No, you are! Bedtime routine, right? Jerk off, go to sleep. Oh my god, why did you text me?”

“I was just wondering how your date went," Joey answers, sullen. “And then you didn’t answer so I, you know. Started in.”

Chris doesn't say anything for a moment. Joey cringes inwardly, but outwardly he’s flushed, pouting, and still fucking hard. This is so not cool. He can hear Chris breathing, and when Chris speaks again, it’s quiet, firm.

“Keep going.”

Joey’s dick jerks. He’s never heard that tone from Chris before, sexy and rough and potentially a little annoyed and yeah, apparently annoyed Chris pretty much flat-out does it for Joey.

“Sorry, what?” Joey answers, flustered.

“Just do it, Joey,” Chris says, and it’s the hesitation Joey can hear there, the smallest bit of fondness and disbelief that makes him move. He repositions himself, flat on his back, and switches his phone into his other hand, palming his dick.

“Do you want me to talk?” Joey asks, and Chris snorts, which Joey takes as a no.

It’s gut-twistingly hot, all of a sudden. He’s just jerking off, but he can hear Chris breathing on the other end of the line, and he’s suddenly hyper aware of all the noises he’s making himself. The slick sound of his fist over his dick is obscene, and when he chokes on a breath, his heart stutters, because Chris _heard_ that. Chris is listening to him jerk off. 

He comes in no time, because he’s too far gone to prove anything regarding stamina right now. After a particularly sharp twist of his wrist, he moans and Chris gasps and Joey comes all over his fingers, too clumsy and worked up to hold off. He breathes hard for a minute afterwards, willing the rushing in his ears to fade because Chris is still there, on the phone, having listened to Joey come.

“Should we talk about this?” Joey says, finally, and his voice is hoarse, rough.

“No,” Chris says, soft. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Night, Joey.”

-

Joey wakes up feeling like shit, with two texts from Darren and one from Mia. Darren’s got a photoshoot and Mia’s got a meeting, so there’s no one in the house to hear him loudly bemoan his own idiocy.

“I’m such a fucking tool,” Joey says, and he rubs at his face. He winces when another bleep comes from his phone, and he checks the new text. 

_You owe me coffee._

It’s from Chris, perfect grammar and all, and it’s followed by a picture of the front of the house, which means Chris is already here, and fuck, where are Joey’s goddamn pants.

He scrambles to get ready, the rush of figuring out what’s clean to wear and where his wallet ended up and if he should shave (nope) doing a fantastic job of stopping him from wondering what the hell he’s going to say to Chris once he gets in the car.

He locks the door behind him, and the first trickle of nervous terror hits him. He quashes it. Chris wants to get coffee, shit can’t be that bad. He climbs into Chris’ SUV and buckles up, glancing over at Chris, who looks at him, coolly amused.

“You didn’t shave."

“You woke me up,” Joey counters, and his voice is steadier than he’d hoped it’d be.

“Yeah, well. It was either this or you’d avoid me forever.”

It’s true; if Chris had texted him without actually being at his door, Joey probably would have feigned sickness, or made up an excuse. Chris isn’t allowing him (either of them) that escape route. 

“Coffee?” Joey says, in lieu of answering and Chris backs the car out of the driveway, dropping his sunglasses back on. 

Joey doesn’t have his, and he flips the sun visor down, squinting as Chris takes a left at the end of the street and merges into traffic. 

“So,” Joey says, and Chris glances at him, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while they wait at a red light. “This is awkward.”

"It doesn’t have to be," Chris says, shrugging. "Let’s just pretend it never happened, and go get coffee. We can do this.”

“Ok, sure. Uh,” Joey says, and man, he’s trying. “How was your date?”

Chris winces, and then starts giggling. It’s contagious, and soon Joey’s cackling along with him, and by the time they pull into the parking lot at their Starbucks, Joey’s pretty much teary with it.

“See,” Chris says, and he points a finger at Joey. “We can totally do this. Now, buy me a motherfucking coffee, Joey Richter.”

“Language!”

-

“So, explain this to me again?” Chris yells over the music, something tinny and very loud. Joey’s just sitting back down, three beers in his hands. He hands one to Chris, sets one in front of Darren’s empty seat, and takes a sip from his own. 

“Well, Darren and Mia broke up, for about the ninetieth time. Don’t get me wrong, they’re meant for each other, but they’re both idiots and it’s guaranteed that within any given span of time, one of them will do something moronic.” The music drops in volume, and Joey sighs in relief. “It’s just as often Mia as it is Darren. But anyway, it generally leads to them fighting, which leads to them breaking up, which leads to my patented four-step program for Darren's post-Mia recovery.”

Chris nods, and glances over at Darren, who is leaning on the edge of the stage, chatting with one of the dancers. 

“He doesn’t even care that he’s in a strip club, does he?” Chris says, a little awed.

“Nope, not at all. It’s more the principle of the thing, I think,” Joey says, grinning. “I’m sorry I had to drag you along, but he specifically requested your presence.”

“It’s ok,” Chris shrugs, looking around, interested. “I’ve never been to a strip club before. It’s not really my thing.”

“So many boobs,” Joey agrees, smiling widely. He elbows Chris, gently.

“Way too many boobs,” Chris agrees, laughing a little before looking back at Joey, serious. “So, what step is this in this four-step program of yours?”

Joey sets down his beer and counts off on his fingers. “Step one is, let him cry and or yell his face off. Generally it’s some combination of both, but it varies depending on which of them did the astoundingly dumb thing that led to the falling out. Step two is, get him really drunk and confiscate his phone.”

“So are we on step two?” Chris asks, gesturing at Darren, who is stumbling back to their table, nearly tripping over his own feet. He’s smiling though, which Joey counts as a win.

“No, this is step three,” he says, and he pulls Darren’s phone out, glancing at it. It has three missed calls, and about a dozen texts from Mia, and he hands it to Darren, who pockets it without looking. “Take Darren to a strip club, and tell Mia where we are.” 

“How is that supposed to help?” Chris asks, and Joey smirks.

“Give it about five more minutes,” Joey says, leaning in and taking one of the shots Darren snags off a passing tray. He also steals the one Darren had been planning on taking himself, and hands it to Chris. Darren pouts, but he’s got one eye on the door, so he doesn’t argue that hard. Joey turns back to Chris. “Cheers.”

They knock back the shots and Joey carefully doesn’t notice the way the alcohol shines against Chris’ lower lip, or the way he flushes pinker the more shots and beer they drink -- on Darren’s tab, of course. It’s been three weeks since the phone call and Joey and Chris have fallen back into some kind of normalcy, but Joey’s pretty sure Chris doesn’t know that Joey’s been jerking off to him every night, to the memory of the heat in Chris’ voice over the phone, the hitch in his breath. 

That might have affected the normalcy. 

And Joey’s hesitant to break the status quo. He’s gotten sort of really attached, really fast, and he’d miss Chris like crazy if he wasn’t there to text, or call, or annoy. So, despite the fact that he’s gotten half hard just from watching Chris take yet another shot from the seemingly endless passing supply, he’s reluctant to push the issue. 

Chris is opening his mouth to say something, probably to ask why Joey’s staring at him like a crazy person, when the door to the club busts open and Mia storms in, spotting them immediately.

“ _Darren Everett Criss!_ ” she practically screams, and Joey carefully shifts his chair closer to Chris, which serves both to move him away from Darren and the line of fire, and give him a better view of what’s about to happen. 

“Mia,” Darren answers cooly. 

“Are you at a motherfucking strip club?” Mia demands, and based on her shrieking, Joey’s assuming she’s going for outraged. He barely holds back the laugh. Mia loves strip clubs, and her and Darren go together all the time. But by this point the exchange is practically scripted. 

“YOU DON’T OWN ME,” Darren yells, standing up, apparently abandoning the collectedness he’d been working on. Mia screams something back, and the two start arguing heatedly, a few feet from their table.

Joey looks at Chris, who’s watching, fascinated. 

“I told you,” Joey says, leaning into Chris. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“What’s step four?” Chris asks, and Joey looks back at Darren and Mia. Mia slaps Darren then lunges in, kissing him hard. 

“That’s step four,” Joey says, and then he grimaces, tossing a straw at Darren and Mia, “Get a room!”

Chris is laughing next to him, applauding Darren and Mia, and Joey catcalls, then orders another round of shots. Mia’s got some catching up to do.

-

Joey wakes up too warm and hungover, with a dry mouth and the sun shining in his face. He’s in his bed, wearing his boxers and socks, and he vaguely recalls a cab ride home, with Darren and Mia and--

Chris snuffles in his sleep, shifting back so he’s pressed back against Joey’s chest, where he’s apparently spent the whole night. Joey closes his eyes, briefly, and then reopens them, but Chris is still there, wearing boxer briefs and an undershirt, his hair a mess and the curve of his neck way too tempting. 

Joey most definitely doesn’t remember crawling into bed with Chris, and he can only hope that the presence of underwear is indication that they didn’t do anything stupid. Because cuddling with the friend you’re rapidly falling totally head over heels in love and lust with is totally not stupid. Nope. 

Joey rubs a hand over his face and takes a few deep breaths before pushing gently at Chris’ shoulder.

“Chris,” he says, and nudges him again. Chris makes a grumpy noise, which is possibly the cutest thing Joey’s ever heard (so screwed) and then opens his eyes, sitting abruptly upright and nearly elbowing Joey in the face. “Whoa.”

“Oh god,” Chris says, and he pales. Joey sits up, gingerly, and prepares himself for whatever’s coming. Be it vomit, or regret, or--

“I never saw that guy again,” Chris blurts out.

\--or incredibly confusing confessions. 

“The guy I went on a date with, that night that-- that we-- that I,” Chris stumbles, and Joey gives a hesitant smile. 

“Oh, uh. Ok?” Joey’s not sure what the appropriate reaction here is. There’s a few incredibly awkward beats of silence, and then Chris groans, cradling his head gently, elbows on his knees. Joey frowns. “Chris, hey. It’s not--”

“I’m such a coward,” Chris says quietly and Joey pats his shoulder, awkward. “Do you know what I did after I got off the phone with you that night?”

Joey shakes his head, simultaneously terrified and so, so hopeful. 

“I jerked off,” Chris says, and he sounds _guilty_. “I feel terrible about it. I took advantage. I mean, I manipulated you into jerking off, and then listened, and then as soon as we hung up, _I_ jerked off, thinking about _you_ jerking off. I’m horrible.”

Joey holds it together for about ten seconds before he cracks into a smile, and then giggles helplessly. “Did you say you _took advantage of me_?” Joey asks, between cackles. 

“Yes!” Chris answers, determined, and looking guiltily confused. 

“No, Chris,” Joey says, sobering a little. He nudges Chris with his shoulder, and shakes his head, still smiling. “Want the real story?”

Chris nods, and Joey blushes a little, then watches his own hands while he talks.

“Ok, so basically I was ridiculously jealous of your date, and I spent all afternoon getting high with Darren to try and forget you were even on a date, and then I sent that stupid text message. When you didn’t answer, I decided to uh, take matters into my own hands, but. And it’s really hard for me to say this. I uh, I couldn’t quite get there.”

Joey licks his lips, and Chris huffs out a quiet laugh next to him. 

“But then you called,” Joey says. “And I got... turned on. And then you said to keep going and I came in like, ten seconds, just from knowing you were listening, and because you... because you told me to. So. Don’t feel bad. You didn’t take advantage.”

Joey comes to a stuttering halt and looks up at Chris, who is looking at him, carefully.

“So, what we’re both saying is that we both jerked off--”

“A few times,” Joey interrupts.

“Is that we both _jerk_ off fantasising about each other?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well. I guess fair is fair then,” Chris says, and he gets up, fishing his pants off the floor. Joey panics.

“Wait, we just. I’m sorry? What--” Joey stops talking, mostly because Chris hucks a balled up t-shirt that smells rank with alcohol at him. Ew.

“I’m going to go home. I’m going to shower. You’re doing to shower. And then I’m going to pick you up at six and we’re going to go on an actual date.”

“Why do you call all the shots in this relationship?” Joey grumbles, but his chest is all tight, and he’s having trouble biting back the totally goofy grin that wants to spread across his face. 

“Because you like it that way. Get up,” Chris calls over his shoulder, and Joey falls back in bed, giving into the grin.

-

“Whoa,” Joey says, and he climbs into Chris’ SUV. “You look hot.”

It’s not the most graceful statement, but it’s a truthful one. Joey doesn’t often see Chris like this. He’s seen him at events, and at Darren’s parties and whatever, but this is very clearly Date Chris. His jeans are so tight that Joey’s balls twinge in sympathy (yep, sympathy) and he’s wearing a black v-neck t-shirt and--

“Stop staring and get in the car,” Chris says, and he peers at Joey over his sunglasses, sounding exasperated but flattered. “And um, you look hot too.”

Joey preens a little. He’d tried, and maybe he’d changed his outfit a few times and spent some extra time in front of the mirror, trying to make sure his hair wasn’t spectacularly unruly. Apparently it had been worth it. 

The restaurant is one they’ve been to a few times before, a tiny hole in the wall Mexican place, but to be honest Joey barely realizes where they’re driving to. He’s busy looking at Chris, now that he finally can.

“Oh my god,” Chris says, as they get out of the car. “Is there something on my face? Because you're staring.”

“Sorry, god, no. Just. Your mouth,” Joey stammers, then claps a hand over his own mouth, muffling his exclamation. “Oh god.”

“My mouth?” Chris says, and he opens the door for Joey, who nearly trips into the restaurant. “Please, explain.”

The cantina is small, and there’s only a couple other customers so they have their pick of tables. Joey leads them to a more private one, since apparently his mouth has developed a filthy mind of its own. 

“I was thinking about your mouth,” Joey says, finally, awkwardly, after the waitress takes their drink orders. 

“About kissing me?” Chris says, and he smiles, reaches out, putting a hand on Joey’s. 

“Not exactly,” Joey says, and he looks down at their hands, and Chris inhales, sharp. “Oh, that’s not fair.” Joey turns his hand over, gripping Chris’ tightly. 

Joey’s looking up at Chris’ face now and half glaring; Chris looks both nervous and turned on, expression flitting between both. 

“You just told me you were thinking impure thoughts about my mouth; what the hell did I do that’s unfair?” Chris asks, voice low, hot and surprised. 

Joey leans in, dropping his voice a little. ‘That noise, that little gasp,” he says, sounding somewhere between exasperated and victorious, “is exactly the noise you made before I came, on the phone. It was practically the cause.” 

Chris doesn’t answer for a moment, doesn’t even move, and for a second Joey’s worried he screwed this whole thing up, the friendship, the whatever more than friendship the two of them are suddenly carefully cultivating.

And then Chris shifts up in his chair, leans forward just a little, and makes the same little gaspy noise, but with a bit of a breathy moan thrown in, and Joey’s suddenly half hard in his pants and totally bewildered.

“Chris Colfer, you tease,” he manages, and Chris sits back in his chair, grinning. Joey glances at the front of the restaurant, but no one can hear them. “Ok, so, as much as I’d like to treat you right and buy you dinner...”

“Yes, I’ll go home with you,” Chris says, and he’s already snagging his sunglasses and standing up. Joey waves apologetically to the one bored waiter then turns to appreciate Chris’ ass as Chris walks out the door. 

-

“I swear I can be romantic,” Joey says and he pushes Chris up against the wall, shoving his hands up Chris’ t-shirt. “Just not right now.”

He leans in and kisses Chris, finally fucking kisses Chris, who fists both hands in Joey’s shirt and kisses back, giving just as good as he’s getting. And it’s definitely good; teeth and tongue and when Joey finally pulls back, they’re both panting. Chris looks a little dazed. 

“I’ve been thinking about that for awhile,” Joey admits, and Chris quirks a smile at him, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been thinking about other things.”

Joey’s not really sure where his shirt lands, but he tosses Chris’ in the same direction and starts working on Chris’ belt. His pants need to be quite literally peeled off, and there is (a god) nothing underneath. Chris is giving him that look again, and Joey mouths at his collarbone and wraps a hand around Chris’ dick, mostly just to see if Chris will make that gasping sound again.

He doesn’t, but Joey’ll take the choked off moan as a trade. He jerks Chris off, thumbs over the head of Chris’ dick till Chris is huffing out a breathless laugh.

“Oh my god, stop,” Chris says, and Joey pulls back, just enough to let Chris (and himself) breathe. “Can we at least get your pants off too?” 

“Am I that good or are you that easy?” Joey teases, but it lacks heat. He’s totally distracted by Chris undoing his belt, then his fly, then pushing Joey’s pants and boxers over his hips and _yes_ they’re both finally, gloriously naked. He pins Chris against the wall again, rubbing his dick against the groove of Chris’ thigh. He kisses him again (wants to kiss him forever), deep and rough, and he palms Chris’ hips, grabbing his ass and tugging him closer.

“Bed,” Chris says against Joey’s mouth and Joey groans, his dick twitching against Chris’. He pulls back long enough to land them both on the bed, Chris’ legs spread, knees around Joey’s hips. Their cocks drag against each other when Joey grinds down. 

Wait.

“Do you top?” Joey says, propping himself up above Chris, struggling to still his movements. “I mean, not that I want you to. Or not that I _don’t_ want you to, I just. I was sort of moving this along with the impression that, uh, I was gonna fuck _you_. And I just wanted to...”

He trails off, because Chris is looking up at him, amused. 

“This is why I think I’m going to fall in love with you,” Chris says quietly, and Joey feels a little thrill. “Stop thinking so much. Yes, I top sometimes, but no, that’s not what I was planning for tonight.”

“We can do that, we--”

“Joey, stop,” Chris laughs, and he pulls Joey down into another kiss, then another. He lifts his hips, pressing his hips into Joey’s. “I’d really like you to fuck me.”

Joey doesn’t answer, just kisses Chris instead, reaching into his nightstand for lube and a condom. The condom he tosses at the head of the bed, but the lube he takes with him, working his way down, pressing kisses to Chris’ sides, to his nipples and his hips, before he licking over the head of Chris’ dick and sinking down. Chris tilts his hips up into it, spreading his legs further and threading his fingers through Joey’s hair, and Joey moans encouragingly before taking him deeper. 

Chris tastes good, fucking amazing. Joey loves sucking dick, and he knows he’s going to really love sucking Chris’ dick; just thick enough to be a challenge, but not so long that he’ll choke if he--

“Fuck,” Chris says, and Joey’d grin if he could, but he’s got his nose pressed to Chris’ groin, Chris’ entire dick down his throat. He pulls off, panting, and Chris is looking down at him, impressed.

“If I’d known you could do that...”

“That’s just the first of many tricks that I--”

“Lame,” Chris laughs, and snags the lube, slicking up two fingers. 

He gives Chris one, gentle--

“Stop teasing,” Chris pants, and Joey bites gently at Chris’ thigh and gives him a second, curving and pressing and licking over the head of Chris’ cock while Chris shakes and gasps and pants. 

“Fuck,” Joey says, after one particularly high-pitched whine. “I need to fuck you, like, immediately.”

He shifts up between Chris’ legs and Chris sits up, tearing the condom open with his teeth (Joey growls, Chris rolls his eyes) and rolling the condom onto Joey. Joey hitches one of Chris’ legs over his elbow, then over his shoulder as he leans in, lining himself up.

“I like that you’re bendy,” Joey says, and Chris flushes.

“That’s just the first of many tricks that I--” Chris starts, but instead of cutting him off, Joey pops the head of his dick into Chris, who cuts himself off with a moan, his eyes dropping shut. 

Joey resists the urge to smirk and just slowly pushes into Chris instead, all his energy focused into not pushing in too hard, too fast, even though he fucking wants to bury himself in Chris _now_. 

“I’m good,” Chris says after a few moments, and Joey leans down to kiss then starts moving, and fuck, fuck. “Oh fuck, that’s good.”

“You’re amazing,” Joey says, and he doesn’t intend it to sound nearly as lovestruck as it does. Chris doesn’t seem to care, though, and Joey leans down, kissing him, folding him nearly in half, and buries his face in Chris’ neck, overwhelmed. Chris fists one hand in Joey’s hair, the other slung across Joey’s sweaty back.

“Fuck, Joey,” Chris pants, and Joey’s finds Chris sounds just as overwhelmed as he did, and he fucks into Chris faster, all intentions of slow and easy gone. Chris is rocking up to meet him, his dick slick between them, and when Chris wraps a hand around it, he clenches up and Joey hitches out a moan. “I’m not gonna last," Chris says.

Joey isn’t either, and he changes angles, to just hold off until Chris comes. 

Which takes only minutes, Chris arching up under him, moaning Joey’s name and clenching down and, yeah, Joey’s only human, and he comes too, shuddering, face still buried in Chris’ neck with his eyes shut.

“Wow,” Joey pants, and he lifts his head, slicking a wet kiss across Chris’ jawbone. 

Chris grins up at him. “This is going to be really, really good. And we can never tell Darren.”

"You're right," Joey says, snickering against Chris' neck. "He'll never let us live this down."

-

“What about him?” Darren says, mouth full. He’s pointing (‘Quit pointing, Darren’) to the admittedly gorgeous waiter working on the other side of the brunch place. 

“Yeah, he’s cute,” Joey says, and then looks at Chris, who raises one eyebrow at Joey. “Not really my type though," Joey grins.

Darren turns back to their table and attempts to steal bacon off Chris’ plate. Chris intercepts, glaring, and Darren grins sweetly before turning to Joey and stealing his bacon instead. 

“What is your type, then? Because dude, I’m fishing blind. At this point my only guidelines are my own ‘I’d hit that’ instincts and that one time I found your porn.” Darren shudders, as if the memory disturbs him greatly.

“I’d say tall, slim. Smart, really smart. Funny. Sarcastic,” Joey says, and Chris rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Joey goes on. “Flexible. Gives amazing head.”

Now Chris is blushing and he kicks at Joey under the table. Darren is, as usual, oblivious, with his chin in his hand, considering. 

“That’s like, really specific,” he says, perplexed. “I don’t know. Chris, do you know anyone?”

Joey looks over at Chris, hopeful, smiling. 

“Yeah,” Chris says, clearing his throat, and he’s looking at Joey intently, a small smile on his face. “I think I might have an idea or two.”


End file.
